A Kick to the
by WildwingSuz
Summary: When Scully accidentally injures her partner in a delicate area, it's going to take more than her doctoring skills to patch things up between them.


**Author's Notes:** The idea for this story was given to me by Monika Michelle Cross. I had a lot of fun writing this in an afternoon.

 **Summary:** When Scully accidentally injures her partner in a delicate area, it's going to take more than her doctoring skills to patch things up between them.

 **Spoilers:** None really. Takes place in Season 6, right around Bad Blood, but no episodes are mentioned.

* * *

Thanks again to my wonderful beta Mimic117 for her sharp red pen, and for the title

For Monika, thanks for a great idea

 **A Kick to the…**  
Rated R  
Suzanne L. Feld

"Mulder come on, just pull down your pants and let me look!"

He was bent over, hands cupping his crotch. While she couldn't see his face, she had glimpsed the pained grimace before he fell to his knees and knew what had happened.

"Just take care of Kramer!" he rasped out, shaking off her hand which was on his shoulder. "I'll be fine."

"Goddamn it, Mulder!" she snapped angrily. "That's my line, and you don't believe me when I say it either." A quick glance verified that the suspect was still cuffed and laying on his stomach a few feet away. Although conscious, he still seemed pretty well stunned after they'd slammed him into the solid wooden privacy fence he lay at the base of. "How bad did he get you?"

"Would you leave me alone?" he growled, still not looking up.

"You're my partner and you're hurt, so no, I won't!" she retorted. "I'm a doctor, Mulder, let me help you. Let me see-" She reached down and tried to pull him up by his elbow, but he yanked it away.

"Scully, stop!" he half-yelled, then retched and moaned.

"What can I do?" she cried, hating the feeling of helplessness when someone, especially her partner, was hurt and she couldn't help them.

"Leave me alone!" he groaned. "Just wait, okay? Just wait!"

"How hard did he get you?" she insisted again, bending over him. "You know it could have—"

" _He_ didn't kick me, _you_ did!" Mulder finally barked, glaring up at her. Tears stood in his narrowed eyes and his face was pale with a greenish tinge. "And if I'm going to throw up, like I feel I might, I don't want you here to see it!"

Scully stumbled back in shock. "I...?"

"Yes! Your damn big heel slammed right into my balls when you jumped in to help me subdue him. Now leave me alone for a minute!"

Feeling her face flame and heart sink, Scully turned away from where her partner was stooping in the middle of the alley. He didn't seem to notice that the knees of his grey Armani slacks were absorbing some kind of greasy slime from the filthy concrete, but she knew that if a hard blow to the testicles was half as painful as she'd heard, that was no surprise. And now she felt absolutely horrible that she had been the one to do that to him, even accidentally.

She turned back to the suspect, who was now moaning faintly. After checking his vitals, she became concerned; his heart rate was slow and pupils not responding normally. "I'm calling an ambulance, Mulder," she said. "For both of you."

"Not for me, I'll be fine, just give me a minute," he grumbled from behind her.

She ignored him as she pulled out her cell. While waiting for the EMTs Scully took off her blazer and slid it under the suspect's head so it wasn't on the cold concrete but didn't dare uncuff him. He was a known, wanted terrorist that she and Mulder had stumbled upon while investigating an X-File in Columbia Heights, and chased him on foot into this murky, grimy alley. They both recognized him from pictures on the FBI's bulletin boards around the Hoover building and hadn't hesitated to go after him.

Mulder had caught him first, but unfortunately the suspect was stronger than his slight build made him appear. He shoved Mulder away, though the tall agent grabbed the back of his shirt and swung him around into the fence. That was when Scully arrived. Seeing her partner grappling with the suspect she'd jumped in to help, and together they had taken him down. Scully cuffed him, and that was when she'd realized that Mulder was hurt and where.

She glanced over at her partner to find him trying to stand upright and while she wanted to go help, Scully knew better at the moment. She didn't care for another scolding. Instead she watched him closely, noting how he walked bow-legged over to the fence and leaned on it. He had one arm braced on the wood and hung his head, his other hand on his lower stomach as he stood with spread legs. Finally, she said, "Is there anything I can do for you, Mulder?"

He glanced over at her and swallowed. "Unless you've got an ice pack tucked away somewhere, Scully, no," he said. "I've taken a shot to the balls before, I'll be fine. Just give me time."

"I didn't kick or knee you in the stomach, too, did I?" she asked, noting where his hand was.

"No, I feel nauseated," he grumbled. "It'll pass."

She frowned over at him.

"Sometimes getting hit in the nuts makes a guy sick to his stomach," he said grudgingly. "It's normal."

The sound of sirens became audible and Scully ran to the end of the alley to flag down the vehicles. As the EMTs were loading the suspect into the ambulance backup arrived, three more FBI agents and, to her dismay, their boss Walter Skinner. He went straight over to where Scully and two EMTs were standing by the fence around Mulder, arguing with him.

"Agent Mulder, what is the problem here?" he boomed as he arrived at the small group.

"Sir, I'm not—"

Scully interrupted him. "Sir, Agent Mulder is injured, and I feel that he needs to be checked out."

"Is this true, Agent?"

Mulder's panicked look at Scully was unmistakable. "I'm fine now!"

"What—"

"If Agent Mulder will let me take him home so I can check him over, that should suffice," Scully interjected. "If I feel he needs further medical care I'll take him to the hospital myself."

A uniformed DC officer came up asking for the SAC and Skinner glared at Scully. "Fine, I'll take it from here," he said, clearly annoyed. "Both of you be in my office at eight sharp tomorrow morning with a full explanation."

The EMTs dispersed as Skinner and the DCPD officer walked away, talking. Scully took Mulder by the arm firmly. "You going to let me take you home without an argument?"

He grumbled but acquiesced, handing her his keys. She matched his slow, careful pace back to where his car was parked two streets over, in front of an antique shop they had been planning to investigate for poltergeist activity. He groaned as he gingerly got into the passenger seat and she bit her lip so she wouldn't say something she'd regret.

They didn't talk as they went up to his apartment, Scully carrying her small medical bag which had been in the trunk of Mulder's car. She'd learned over the years to take it everywhere they went. "Why don't you go change into something comfortable and then let me check you out?" she said in a neutral voice.

"Is that your version of having me 'slip into something comfortable' so you can have your way with me? Might be a waste of time right now, Scully," he said flippantly as he took off his suit jacket.

Scully's eyes zeroed in on his front. Just below the crotch of his pants, a few inches beneath the bottom of the zipper, was an unmistakable streak of dark blood. "Mulder, you're bleeding," she said with alarm, pointing. "You could have a tear in the scrotal sack or, God forbid, have ruptured a testicle."

His eyes widened in panic. "It doesn't hurt that bad anymore, really just throbs," he said, his voice going up in register and showing his alarm.

"You'd better let me look at it right now," she said forcefully. "The longer we wait—"

Mulder appeared to be torn in indecision, then heaved a sigh and went to stand beside the couch, unbuckling his belt and dropping his pants on the floor before laying down. Scully opened her soft-sided bag and took out a pair of blue nitrile gloves, then turned to see him wearing his pressed blue dress shirt, a patterned silk tie, and black boxer-briefs. "You should probably take your underwear off," she said, pulling the gloves on. "I don't want to inadvertently hurt you doing it."

He was eyeing her gloved hands. "What part of me are you planning on probing?"

"I have a rectal thermometer in that bag if you don't start cooperating," Scully bit off, getting fed up with his antics. "In fact, I'll put it in the freezer first if you keep it up."

His eyes raised to hers, and in them she saw his misery and alarm and felt a pang of sympathy for him. "Mulder. I have examined men's genitals before, more than once. You know you don't have anything I haven't seen a dozen times over. I'm no proctologist or urologist, but I am qualified to make sure that I didn't do any serious damage to your testicles. Please let me check you."

He heaved another big sigh and looked away. "All right. But don't be surprised if I, uh, you're an um, attractive…"

At this she raised a brow. "I tell you Mulder, it won't bother me to see your—"

"Scully! I'm a normal heterosexual man! I can't help my reactions!"

"Oh!" It dawned on her what he was trying to say. "Aren't you, uh, too sore, to get an erection?"

For the very first, and possibly only time, in their partnership she saw a blush spread across his cheeks. "Jesus, Scully!"

"Oh, for God's sake, Mulder, how many times do I have to remind you that I am a medical doctor? The human body, male or female, holds no surprises for me, professionally or personally." She was getting thoroughly frustrated, though she did understand now what his concern was. "Don't worry about it. I won't take it, uh, personally or anything."

"Okay, okay. I would feel better if we make sure I'm all right, it is pretty sore down there." Without further ado he arched his back and lifted his hips from the leather couch, carefully peeling the tight briefs off to the top of his thighs. As he laid back again, his bare ass touching the leather, he hissed. "I think the support of the underwear helped, because now it hurts again."

"All right, just relax. I'll be very careful." Scully gently worked the briefs down to his ankles, then parted his knees. She glanced up to see Mulder staring at the ceiling, though the red flush had faded. Then she turned to see how he had fared from her unintentional blow.

To her relief, she found a long but shallow scrape at the top of the inside of his left thigh, where it looked like the heel of her shoe had caught him. That was where the blood had come from, as there was more, dried and caked, around it. He hissed as she gently and carefully moved and examined his testicles, seeing that they were slightly swollen but otherwise seemed fine. The scrotal skin sac wasn't badly bruised, and she felt no excessive inflammation. She talked to him as she worked, explaining what she was doing and her findings. Several times he made a 'whew' sound as she reported that he didn't seem to be seriously damaged.

But then she had to move his penis to check the skin of his upper thighs on either side of his testicles, to make sure that it wasn't swollen or bruised as well. She wasn't sure exactly where he had been struck and wanted to cover all of her bases. He was clearly well-endowed; even flaccid he had several inches of length and it was necessary to shift him. All was well until she gently took hold of it and moved it to the other side of his body; the moment she touched him, his penis jerked and began to rapidly swell. And it wasn't from any kind of damage, that much was for certain.

"Oh my God, I'm sorry," he groaned, throwing one arm over his eyes. "I was afraid of this."

"Don't worry about it, Mulder, I know it's not something you can control. Actually, it's a very good sign. I think you're fine, just let me clean this scrape and we're all done. Don't move, I'll be right back."

By the time she got to her feet, Scully saw that he was fully hard, his stiff penis extended up past his navel where it lay against his slightly convex abdomen. Her professional detachment suddenly fled, something that had never happened to her before in her medical career. She struggled to maintain her calm as she gazed at the first erection she'd seen in years, not since Ethan had left shortly after she'd started on the X-Files. Her heart began to speed up, her forehead broke out in a sweat, and a tingle developed between her legs. Scully whirled to hide her face as she felt it start to warm, and she knew it must be turning red. She bumped into the coffee table, which she'd moved away a bit but obviously not far enough, in her rush to get to the bathroom.

Once inside with the door closed, she stripped off the gloves and tossed them in the trash and turned on the cold-water tap. There was a blue washcloth laid over the towel bar next to the sink and she picked it up, sniffing it gingerly. It only smelled of the Irish Spring soap that Mulder used, so she rinsed it well under the tap before using one corner of it to blot her forehead and cheeks. Once she saw in the mirror that her blush had faded, she dampened it and carried it back out to the living room.

There, she saw with relief, Mulder had gone back down; his penis lay quiescent against his dark pubic hair. But she couldn't seem to reach the same level of detachment that she had before, when he was nothing more than a patient who needed her help. She put on another pair of gloves and gently cleaned and disinfected the scrape, then she covered it with antibiotic ointment and left it uncovered with instructions to let it air out. "If you don't have regular boxers, go commando under loose pants. And I'd recommend icing your testicles if they're still sore."

"Do you think it would help if I wore a supporter?" he asked as she turned her back, putting the tube of antibiotic ointment back into her bag. She still felt very uncomfortable, though she couldn't have said why, and hoped nothing showed on her face or in her voice.

"If it helps, sure," she said. "Do whatever doesn't hurt, I think is the best advice."

She went into the bathroom to rinse and hang the washcloth back where she'd found it, then washed her hands. When she left the bathroom, Mulder was sitting on the edge of the bed wearing a pair of loose blue and white nylon shorts that fell to his knees, and a plain grey t-shirt. "So I'll be okay, doc?" he asked, looking up at her with hopeful expression. She wondered where his earlier discomfort had gone, then realized that it seemed like he'd transferred it to her.

"Yep, you'll live and probably reproduce someday, if that's what you decide you want," she said more flippantly than she felt as she went into the living room. He followed and perched gingerly on the edge of the couch. "Give me a call if you have any other pain, or if you need anything," she added, picking up her bag.

"Hey, you don't have to rush out of here, do you? We could order a pizza," he said, standing up carefully. He seemed to be moving easier and she wondered if he'd put a supporter on but wasn't about to ask. "It's the least I can do in thanks for your free doctoring."

She hesitated. On one hand she was hungry, but on the other she still felt uncomfortable. Something about seeing Mulder's fully erect penis had brought a part of her to life that she'd thought well and truly buried. She didn't want to regard him as anything more than her law enforcement partner, and friend, and her thoughts seemed to be heading uncomfortably beyond there. "I should get home, start on our report," she said, and heard how lame it sounded even to herself.

"We can work on it here," he argued with those pleading eyes she found so hard to resist. "Come on, Scully, don't be a party pooper. We're going to have a rough day tomorrow, you know, explaining all this to Skinner. And you can help keep me distracted from the discomfort."

She felt something inside herself snap shut, close off from him. She knew it was safer that way. "Sorry, I have to go," she said, in control once again. "I'll catch you tomorrow morning."

As she left Scully suspected that she would never see Mulder quite the same way again, in more ways than one.

 _finis_


End file.
